


Try Sometimes

by panisdead



Category: Southland
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-28
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 19:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panisdead/pseuds/panisdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's what it's like with John. So when they fuck, Cesar makes sure he gets what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Summer of Southland Kink Meme](http://summerofsouthland.dreamwidth.org/6339.html) for the prompt: John/Cesar, immobility.

John's back has hurt him for as long as he and Cesar have been together. Some days it's not much, just stiffness and popping that Cesar can hear when John gets out of bed in the morning. Some days Cesar brings him ice packs and hot water bottles and takes his shower first so John can stand under the spray until the warm water runs out.

On the bad days, John retches with pain behind the closed bathroom door and swallows pills like candy.

Cesar knows John takes more painkillers than are remotely safe or legal. They don't talk about it. The last time he brought it up, John insulted every member of his family back to his grandfather's generation, told him to go the fuck away, and then refused to answer his cell for two days.

On the third day, Cesar showed up on the front doorstep with a bottle of vodka and a stuffed teddy bear clutching a heart in its paws. The heart originally read, "Sorry you're sick," but Cesar had altered it with black marker to read, "Sorry you're a dick." Cesar's a bitch like that.

John let him in. They drank the entire bottle of vodka and didn't talk about it.

So Cesar's been around and he knew what he was getting into, staying with an addict. It pisses him off, though. One time Cesar came home and there was a drug dealer in his fucking kitchen. Cesar's arms were full of paper sacks stuffed with vegetables in the full rainbow of colors, because if John couldn't get clean he would at least by God get his vitamins, and John was on his knees on the fucking Sausalito tile with some shithead in a leather jacket standing over him.

Cesar set his bags down on the countertop--laminate; they hadn't saved enough yet to upgrade to granite--and took an empty beer bottle from the recycle bin next to the stove. Holding it by the neck, he turned around to face the guy.

"Get out of my house," Cesar told him.

The guy cocked his head at him and smiled. He had a plastic prescription bottle in his hand and he twirled it absently, running it through his fingers like Cesar's uncle Ramon did with a quarter.

"It's okay, man," the guy said, smiling. "We were just talking." His other hand rested on his belt buckle.

Cesar looked at John. There was sweat beading his forehead and staining wet patches at his collar and armpits, and his hands were shaking where they rested on his thighs.

"Did he pay you?" he asked the guy. Richie. His name was Richie. Cesar had seen him before, leaning into the driver's side window of Geoffrey's Miata outside the bar.

Richie rolled the pill bottle back and forth. "Sure," he said, smiling. "He paid me."

"Then give it to him," Cesar told Richie.

"You should fix him dinner," Richie said. "Something healthy. He doesn't look too good."

Cesar raised the beer bottle and smashed it on the edge of the countertop. He faced Richie with the jagged remains. "Give it to him," Cesar said again. "And get out of my house."

Richie held his hands palm up, _sure, sure, everybody calm down_. "Okay, man," he said. "Catch."

He flicked the pill bottle at Cesar and hit him in the chest. Cesar made no move to catch it, and it bounced off and hit the tile. John flinched, then gasped like it hurt him.

"Bye now," Richie said, backing out the front door and closing it behind him. Cesar listened until he heard a car engine start up down the block.

"Cesar," John said. He sounded like shit.

"You sleep in the bathtub tonight," Cesar said. "You can vomit there."

"Cesar, I can handle it," John said.

Cesar turned and started unloading groceries. "I'll bring you a sandwich," he said. "Tomorrow you can clean up this glass."

That's what it's like with John. So when they fuck, Cesar makes sure he gets what he needs.

"Shut up and suck it," he'll tell John, kneeling over his shoulders and guiding his dick into John's open mouth, John flat on his back on the bed. "Try not to choke."

Or, "You're going to rim me," while he braces himself on his knees and shoves his ass backward into John's face. John won't take orders from him, it's not like that between them, but he can't move around much in bed without pain and they've had to figure out how to work around it. Plus Cesar's not shy, and he decided early on that if he was going to take the rest of the shit John was handing out he was going to get fucked exactly how he liked it.

So he tells John what to do, where to put his hands and his tongue and how fast and how hard. He sucks John when he feels like it, and when he doesn't he hands John the lube, cracks open a beer, and sits back to watch the show.

John doesn't like to get fucked, too jarring, and he can't maintain a good thrust without his back spasming. He fucks Cesar with fingers, though. Fingers and toys and once, when Cesar spent forty minutes on the salad and then John wouldn't eat it and called out for Chinese instead, half of a nice organic cucumber. It had cost three fifty and Cesar was going to get some use out of it one way or another. Cesar's a bitch like that, too.

But sometimes, fingers aren't enough. Some days Cesar just wants to get nailed. On those days, he'll sit John up against the headboard with a stack of pillows at his lumbar region and work himself down on John's dick. It always takes forever, and Cesar drags it out for the rare pleasure of John's actual cock in his ass.

"Hold my hips," he'll tell John, sweating and straining while his own dick slaps impatiently at his belly, and, "No, asshole, don't lift me, you'll hurt yourself--"

"I can handle it," John gasps, dragging Cesar up his dick and slamming him back down while Cesar shouts and moans. "Shut the fuck up, Cesar, I can handle it."

So John might change, or he might not. But in the meantime Cesar knows how to get what he needs.

END


End file.
